


You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, I have to change the rating, I wouldn't tag it but I like to err on the side of caution, Incest, M/M, Sherlock turns 16 in a later chapter, Underage - Freeform, WHAT IS FREEFORM AO3 STOP AUTOCORRECTING MY TAGS, demisexual, holmescest, mentions of drug use, the underage is just one small part though, you know what that means
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having just started his second year at university, Mycroft returns home for Christmas and is faced with the difficult task of dealing with Sherlock - while trying to hide his forbidden affections for the boy at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Holmescest Christmas, everyone!
> 
>  **Short background for anyone who's interested:** In this fic of mine, I'm operating from the idea that when Mycroft finished school he stayed around to help his Father for two years before going to university. That's why he's 22.

Sherlock turned a page in his book as he sat opposite Mycroft, the fire crackling away at the side of the room. He wasn't paying attention to his book – it was one he had already completely read through twice – but instead was observing his brother surreptitiously. The young man had returned from university now that it was Christmas break, but he was different.

He had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, which was obvious from the amount of times he kept picking up his phone and wetting his lips subconsciously. He'd also gained more weight, but that didn't surprise Sherlock at all.

What did surprise Sherlock, was Mycroft's new-found resilience. In his time away, he had grown nearly immune to Sherlock's whining, complaining, and demands for attention.

"Is it a boy or a girl that you've been fucking?" Sherlock asked suddenly, breaking the silence and putting his book down as he gave up the pretence that he had been reading.

Mycroft looked up sharply from the textbook he'd been reading when he wasn't texting – still trying to get ahead even when on his break – and raised his eyebrows at his brother.

"I can't see how that's any of your business," he replied.

"I can't see how anyone would want you," Sherlock shot back.

Mycroft frowned and returned to his textbook, refusing to bite back. Sherlock rolled his eyes and flung his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"You're boring now. Whoever it is, they're having a terrible influence on you."

Mycroft continued to ignore his brother's jibes, concentrating unwaveringly on his textbook and writing a few things down in the notebook he also carried whenever he came across something he wanted to highlight. His time at university had helped him to excel in his areas of expertise, as well as teaching him how to ignore annoying disturbances. This was coming in very handy now that he'd been forced to return to an environment containing Sherlock. His phone buzzed again softly and he responded calmly.

"I think I'll get high for Christmas this year," Sherlock said with a sigh, staring across at Mycroft hopefully for some sort of reaction.

Mycroft turned a page in his textbook but otherwise didn't even flinch.

"I can't believe you've had sex," Sherlock went on, trying to get a rise out of his brother again. "It's disgusting and messy. How could you enjoy something like that? Oh god, did you do it with one of your professors so they would give you better marks?" Pulling a face, Sherlock threw his book at Mycroft but it missed by half a foot, grazing the back of Mycroft's chair as it sailed over and landed on the floor behind.

"You're behaving like a child," Mycroft said calmly, writing down some more notes from his textbook.

"Maybe I should fuck my teacher then, like you," Sherlock replied. "Do you think having sex with someone mature makes you-"

The door to the room opened and Mummy stepped in, walking over with a smile to find her two sons enjoying each others company silently. Mycroft, as usual, working hard at his studies, and Sherlock in the seat opposite him staring calmly into the fire while tapping his fingers against his leg, probably working out some impossible calculation in his head.

"You two don't need anything, do you?" she asked gently.

"No, thank you, Mummy," Mycroft said as he lifted his head from his book to smile up at her. "Just trying to get some more work done so I'm prepared for my next semester."

"Don't work too hard," Mummy said with a smile. "Sherlock?"

"How long do you think it would take me to burn to death if I sat in the fire right now?" Sherlock asked without turning to look at her.

Slightly horrified, Mummy didn't answer him but glanced at Mycroft again who was grimacing and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"Well, it's good to see you boys spending time together at least. We're going to have such a wonderful Christmas party!"

As soon as Mummy had left the room and shut the door behind her, Sherlock turned his attention back to Mycroft.

"So did you?" he asked.

"I'm trying to work," Mycroft said softly.

"I know. It's boring. Did you have sex with one of your professors?"

The sound of another message came from Mycroft's phone and he quickly picked it up, looking down at the screen with a small smile. Sherlock watched anxiously, observing every tiny emotion which flickered across his brother's face and frowning when Mycroft put the phone back down.

"Who is it?" he snapped.

"None of your concern," Mycroft answered, turning another page in his textbook.

"Your girlfriend?" Sherlock asked. "You can tell me."

Mycroft ran a hand through his hair but said nothing, continuing to go through the blocks of text in front of him and break them down in his mind.

Sherlock watched his brother in angry silence for a few minutes, trying to think of what else he could do to get a reaction from him and finally have his attention again. He hated that Mycroft was moving on, getting new friends at uni and now even a relationship, while all the time growing more and more distant from him.

"Do you even care that I was in the hospital last month?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft looked up quickly, eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

"Because you never even asked," Sherlock went on. "You never came to see me and find out if I was okay. I could have _died_ and you were too busy getting laid in university to care at all."

"Is that why you're upset?" Mycroft asked, shocked. "You think I don't care about what happened?"

"You don't," Sherlock said with a shrug.

"That's not true," Mycroft said firmly, shutting his textbook for the first time and sitting a bit straighter. "I wanted to come and see you but Father wouldn't let me!"

Sherlock frowned, studying his brother's face to try and work out if he was telling the truth or not. He didn't want to believe him, because he _had_ held onto this grudge ever since being released, but there was nothing in his brother's face that would suggest Mycroft was making it up.

"I'd do it again," Sherlock said finally, turning away from Mycroft's gaze to stare into the fire. "I feel better on the drugs."

"Are you really that stupid?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock was silent, pondering, before he replied with a change of subject. "Tell me who you're dating."

There was a loud sigh from Mycroft before he spoke softly. "A girl called Anthea. But we haven't had sex."

"Liar," Sherlock replied instantly.

"I'm dating Anthea to keep Father happy," Mycroft said with a frown. "If you don't believe me, fine. But it's the truth."

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Sherlock said, "If it was just for Father's benefit, you wouldn't look so sickeningly happy whenever she sends a new text."

"She's not the one sending me texts," Mycroft said slowly. As if emphasise the situation, his phone buzzed again.

Caught off guard, Sherlock looked back at him in surprise. "Who?" he demanded to know.

"I told you it's none of your concern," Mycroft said, replying to the new text message before opening his textbook again.

"I don't care," Sherlock said. "I want to know who's texting you. Is it a secret lover? It must be."

Looking at Sherlock in utter annoyance, Mycroft slammed his book shut before standing up and walking over to the boy. Sherlock stared back defiantly.

"Yes, I have a secret relationship from which my text messages are originating. No, I'm not going to tell you who it is with. You're not to breathe a word to Mummy or Father, and right now I'm going to bed. Please refrain from asking further questions until tomorrow."

Snatching his things from the chair he had been sitting in, Mycroft then exited the room and Sherlock was left to ponder on his own.

As far as he was concerned, Mycroft's secret certainly wouldn't remain that way for long.

*

It had been two days since Sherlock fought for Mycroft's attention and information about his love life, and now the two brothers found themselves dressed in their nicest suits in the midst of a room full of guests who had all turned up for the famous Holmes Christmas Party.

Needless to say, Sherlock was miserable and Mycroft's mood suffered in turn because of it.

"I swear," Sherlock said as he tried to pick up a glass of champagne but was thwarted by Mycroft for the third time that night. "If I have to listen to you telling your successful life story to any more of Father's 'friends' I'll go up to my room and jump out the window."

"You would give Mummy a heart attack," Mycroft scolded softly.

"At least it would finally be a Christmas to remember," Sherlock replied.

"Oh, Mycroft! Sherlock! You two look so grown up!"

Mycroft plastered a smile onto his face as they were approached by another guest – this time an actual relative – and nudged Sherlock subtly to try and make the boy replace his glower with something nicer. Sherlock refused to even attempt a better expression.

"It's lovely to see you again," Mycroft greeted. "I'm afraid Sherlock isn't feeling so well this evening."

"Oh no, I heard about what happened last month. Do you think he's... you know... got a bit of a problem in his head? I really would advise having him sent off to a doctor, perhaps a psychiatrist, to get him checked out." Lowering her voice but still speaking ridiculously loudly, their Aunt continued, "I don't think it's safe to have people like him wandering around. He's going to mar the family name."

"Did you hear I've started university this year?" Mycroft asked quickly, desperate to change the subject since Sherlock was becoming visibly angrier.

Thankfully it worked and Mycroft was able to entertain his Aunt for a good hour with stories of how well he was doing in university. Slipping in the news that he'd found a girlfriend for himself as well also helped to stir up more conversation, and he wasn't surprised when he turned to find that Sherlock had slipped away and disappeared from the guest room. He was actually jealous.

It was another half hour before Mycroft was able to excuse himself and go upstairs to search for his brother. He had received a meaningful stare from his Father across the room, clearly telling him to find the boy and bring him back down to socialise.

Sherlock had retreated to his room and was lying on his back, the tiniest smirk crossing his lips as Mycroft entered. Mycroft scowled, realising it had been Sherlock's plan all along to make him leave the party in search of him.

"Father sent you?" Sherlock asked, holding a hand up in front of his face and turning it over slowly, studying his fingers.

"Are you high?" Mycroft asked, ignoring Sherlock's question as they both already knew the answer.

"I told you I was going to get high this Christmas," Sherlock said, dropping his hand to his chest and turning to look over at Mycroft for the first time. He was still smiling. "I guess you weren't listening. Again."

Remaining silent to assess the situation a moment longer, Mycroft then let himself nod smugly before moving over to sit on the edge of Sherlock's bed. "You're far too lucid to be strung out on cocaine or something right now."

"Okay, you caught me," Sherlock sighed, looking up at his brother mischievously. "I thought I'd wait for you to get here so we could get high together."

"Where is it, then?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock paused momentarily before sitting up and beginning to slide off the bed. "I'll go get it."

"Stop bluffing," Mycroft snapped, grabbing Sherlock's arm to push him back down again.

"I'm not," Sherlock said half-heartedly, flopping back down without a fight and crossing his arms over his chest.

Tired of his brother's games already, Mycroft turned away from him. "You can't stay up here all night." He pushed his single rebellious curl off his forehead. "Mummy will be upset if you don't show your face at least once more, and you know Father won't be impressed. I don't want you to get in even more trouble."

The bed shifted and suddenly Sherlock was at Mycroft's back, his hands on the young man's shoulders as he leaned close to Mycroft's ear.

"Can we play pirates? It's been years."

With a sigh, Mycroft tried to stand up but found Sherlock's arms circling his waist, holding tightly.

"Please?"

"We're too old for games like that, Sherlock," Mycroft said stiffly. "Let me go."

"I miss you," Sherlock whispered, burying his head against Mycroft's shoulder and letting his hands roam slowly across Mycroft's stomach. "You keep pushing me away."

Caught between the sincerity in Sherlock's voice and the boy's roaming hands, Mycroft stammered. "I'm not trying to- Sherlock, stop!" Grabbing the boy's wrists, he tried to pull them away from his body, but Sherlock's fingers proceeded to dig in harshly for a firm grip. "You're hurting me!"

"I want to play pirates!" Sherlock repeated, his voice demanding. His hands moved higher, slipping beneath Mycroft's suit jacket and over his chest.

"You're acting childish!" Mycroft shot back, elbowing Sherlock in the face before standing roughly from the bed and making the boy slip onto the floor beside him, hands finally dislodged. Sherlock curled into himself, avoiding Mycroft's gaze as the older brother gazed down at him.

"Get out, then," Sherlock hissed quietly.

There was something very wrong about this whole situation, but Mycroft was far too embarrassed to hang around and work it out. His face was burning red and his body felt like it was on fire from his brother's hands.

"Come downstairs when you're ready," he muttered, straightening his clothes before leaving the room as quickly as he could.

With Mycroft gone, Sherlock pulled himself back up onto his bed and lay on his side, facing the wall. Bringing his hands up in front of his face, he slowly uncurled his fingers and smiled brightly.

He had Mycroft's phone.


	2. Chapter 2

Having rejoined the party, Mycroft quickly found himself surrounded by relatives and family friends again, wanting to know more details about his first year at university. He'd technically started his second year now, but he'd only had one semester so there wasn't much to say about it.

"Oh, Mycroft! Show them that message you got from your professor the other day, congratulating you on the extra work you'd put in to mastering his subject!"

Mummy had joined the group a few minutes ago and Mycroft now smiled to please her, reaching inside his jacket for his phone so that he could pull it out and let them all gush over the praise he'd received from his professor. He couldn't deny he was also very proud that his efforts were being noticed.

But his phone wasn't in his pocket.

"Shit!" he swore loudly, startling everyone around him. Mummy was staring at him, wide-eyed, and he matched her expression before shaking himself and quickly apologising. "I am _so_ sorry. Please forgive my language. But I... I've just remembered something. I'll be back soon."

Darting from the room as quickly as he could, he just hoped he could get to Sherlock before the boy discovered the truth.

 _Shit_.

* * *

_[08:13] Have you left already? Sorry I didn't get to say goodbye. GL_

**[08:17] No, that's my fault. My flight left quite early. Mummy's really been looking forward to seeing me again so I thought it would be best to arrive as soon as possible. MH**

_[08:19] It's fine. Have a good Christmas, alright? You'll be fine. Remember what I told you. GL_

**[08:19] How could I forget? MH**

_[08:19] You get pretty forgetful when thinking about him, you know. GL_

**[08:20] Point taken. MH**

_[08:20] I mean it, My. It'll be fine. You'll see, you'll have a great break and you'll get to sneak a perve. GL_

**[08:20] That's really something I've been trying _not_ to think about! MH**

_[08:21] Sorry, couldn't help it. Why are you so worried anyway? He's not brought it up in the past, has he? GL_

**[08:21] No, of course not. I'm just paranoid. I haven't seen him in almost a year. What if he's even more attractive now? MH**

_[08:21] Probably is, but so are you. GL_

_[08:22] Maybe this is the year that he takes a notice of you, eh? GL_

**[08:23] You know that could never happen. Even if he did... It couldn't happen. MH**

_[08:24] I know, I'm sorry My. But just thinking about it won't do any harm, will it? I mean, it's just a wank fantasy. What he doesn't know can't hurt. GL_

**[08:26] I have to be more careful when I'm around him, though. It's been so long, he's _bound_ to be an annoying brat and latch onto me as soon as he realises I'm here. MH**

_[08:26] That's good, right? I mean you get to see him... Spend time with him. GL_

**[08:26] Good? No. It's terrible. I can barely resist him as it is and I haven't even seen him again yet. MH**

_[08:26] Maybe you should duck off and have a wank before you see him, then? GL_

**[08:27] That's actually not such a bad idea. MH**

_[08:27] I'll leave you to it, then? GL_

**[08:27] Yeah. I'll text you again later. MH**

**[08:27] And Greg? Thank you. MH**

_[08:27] What are mates for? It's fine, My. Have fun, okay? Make sure you do text me later. I expect a Christmas text! GL_

**[08:27] Alright, alright. I promise I'll text you on Christmas day. MH**

_[08:28] Good. Bye, My. And try not to stare at his arse. GL_

**[08:28] Shut up. MH**

* * *

**[22:43] He's been sitting across from me for an hour trying to get my attention but he's being an idiot. Help. MH**

_[22:45] What exactly is he doing? GL_

**[22:47] Making eyes at me over his book which, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost mistake for flirting. MH**

_[22:47] Talk to him, tell him to bugger off. GL_

**[22:48] I'm trying to get some more work done. I'm going to continue ignoring him. MH**

_[22:51] Alright, sure you don't want to take a golden opportunity to have a sneak peak? You could get some material for your wank before bed. GL_

**[22:56] One day I'm going to murder you slowly and intimately. MH**

_[22:56] You love me, you great git. GL_

**[23:04] Yes, I do. And Sherlock. Despite his many faults. MH**

_[23:09] What age is your brother again? GL_

**[23:10] Fifteen. MH**

_[23:13] So he's a bit too young to get a drink in, then? GL_

**[23:15] Not for lack of trying. MH**

**[23:17] You heard about what happened last month? When Sherlock overdosed? MH**

_[23:17] No, what the fuck happened? GL_

**[23:18] He was experimenting because he got bored with school, or some other reason. Father wouldn't even let me go home to see him because he said he didn't want Sherlock being coddled. MH**

_[23:19] Shit, no offence but your father's kind of a prick. GL_

_[23:19] He's only a kid, how are you coddling him if he overdosed? GL_

**[23:20] He's always been harder on Sherlock. I don't know why. MH**

_[23:21] Maybe Sherlock's waiting on you to say something about the overdose? Maybe that's why he's trying to get your attention? GL_

**[23:22] He already brought it up, actually. I would've explained further but he changed the subject. He accused me of sleeping with my professors! MH**

_[23:23] Was he sore over it? Maybe he just wants to be coddled a little. GL_

**[23:25] I don't know if I can comfort him the way he wants without my feelings getting in the way. MH**

_[23:26] Fair enough. GL_

_[23:27] Maybe he won't notice? GL_

**[23:27] He's not as dumb as he acts. He sees a lot. MH**

_[23:27] Maybe he won't mind, then. GL_

**[23:28] If you keep tempting me I'm going to give in one day. MH**

_[23:30] At least wait until he's legal before you try getting into his knickers. GL_

**[23:31] Oh my god. MH**

**[23:31] You've given me a thousand birthday fantasies. MH**

**[23:31] I need a cold shower. MH**

_[23:32] Go on, then, I'll leave you to it. But you might not want to wait it out, incase it pops back up later ;) GL_

**[23:32] I want to be angry at you but you're probably right. Again. MH**

_[23:33] You're always angry at me, it's one of your many charms. GL_

**[23:33] I'm just lucky you put up with me. MH**

_[23:34] Of course I do, you're my best mate, and I bloody love you. Even if you are a bit odd. GL_

**[23:34] A bit? I'm in love with my fifteen-year-old brother. MH**

_[23:35] Really odd then, better? GL_

**[23:37] I can't believe it doesn't phase you. MH**

_[23:41] It did a bit, if I'm honest, at first. But you've never forced anything on him, y'know? You've not even told him. Not that I believe you'd force anything on him. You're a good bloke. You've just got rotten luck, that's all. GL_

**[23:43] Thank you. I took a big risk telling you in the beginning but I'm glad I did. Even though I know that it's a dead end crush, it's nice to have** **someone to talk to about it. MH**

_[23:44] It's always nice to have someone to talk to. I'm sorry though, that it won't become anything. GL_

**[23:44] For the best, though. MH**

_[23:44] I guess. I don't see the harm if you were both consenting and legal, though. GL_

**[23:45] Good night, Gregory. MH**

_[23:46] Yeah. Go have that wank you're desperate for. GL_

* * *

"Secret lover, hm?" Sherlock asked in greeting as Mycroft entered the room. He was lying on his bed again, Mycroft's phone held loosely in one hand as his other covered his eyes.

A weight settled over Mycroft's chest as he was faced with the realisation that he was, in fact, too late. Sherlock had read most of the texts, if not all. From his relaxed position it was clear that he had at least read enough to find out the big secret.

Sherlock lifted the phone to his face, peering through his fingers and reading, "'I'm in love with my fifteen-year-old brother.' You didn't even try to use code or anything."

"Are you going to tell anyone?" Mycroft asked softly, his palms sweaty from nerves. He had tried so hard to keep it a secret and now it was out. Sherlock would hate him and be disgusted whenever Mycroft looked at him. Father would probably send him to a correctional facility. God, his parents would be so disappointed.

"I should," Sherlock said, sitting up on his bed to stare over at his brother. "That's what 'normal' people would do after finding out their brother fancies them, wouldn't they?"

"I tried to fight the feelings when they first came," Mycroft explained. "And I never would have touched you, I promise. Would you please just let this go? We can forget it ever happened and never bring it up again."

"And you'll stop talking to Greg about me?" Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Of course," Mycroft said, swallowing.

Sherlock stood up and slowly crossed the room to stand in front of Mycroft, watching him closely and silently for a few moments. He almost smirked when Mycroft grew visibly uncomfortable, shifting and glancing away briefly.

"I'm so young," Sherlock murmured. "I'm not even of age yet."

Stammering and going bright red, Mycroft shook his head. "I swear, it's only recently that I've... been attracted to you. A year... two, at the most."

"You misunderstand," Sherlock said, allowing himself to smile this time. He stepped closer, putting his hands gently on Mycroft's shoulders. "I'm young, but I'm not a child. That's why you love me, isn't it?"

"What are you doing?" Mycroft asked nervously, wishing Sherlock would put distance between them again.

"I'm mature for my age. I'm not surprised you fell for me." Sliding a hand up to Mycroft's neck and smoothing his fingers over his brother's pulse point, Sherlock wet his lips with his tongue. "This must be agony for you."

Glaring at the boy, Mycroft asked, "If you know how hard this is for me, why don't you stop?" Why did Sherlock have to stubbornly seduce him? Did the boy really find it that amusing? Mycroft had expected disgust and horror, but he should have known that whatever Sherlock felt about it he would have also been tempted to use it to his advantage.

Sherlock slowly sucked his bottom lip into his mouth then, maintaining eye contact with Mycroft and leaning forward so slowly that Mycroft barely knew what was happening before they had collided and were kissing.

Mycroft gasped, his hands gripping Sherlock's waist halfway between pulling him closer and shoving him away. Sherlock's mouth opened to deepen the kiss, his body moulding itself against Mycroft's despite his older brother's confused reluctance. It wouldn't be long now.

Dragging wet lips from Mycroft's to trail down his neck, Sherlock searched for the pulse again, this time feeling it beating quickly beneath his tongue.

"Sh-Sherlock, you can't-" Mycroft began, but his complaints fell dead as Sherlock slid a hand down the front of his trousers. Lips found lips once more and suddenly Mycroft was returning the affections eagerly, letting go of whatever had been previously stopping him from reaching out to take what he wanted.

They stumbled across the room slowly until the back of Sherlock's legs hit his bed and he sank down, pulling Mycroft with him. Their kiss broke apart as Mycroft shifted them to a more comfortable position, settling his legs on either side of Sherlock's hips before leaning down to resume their kiss. He ran his fingers through Sherlock's curly hair at the same time, tugging gently to evoke moans from the boy.

Sherlock could barely control himself. His hands roamed desperately, eager to memorise every inch of his brother's body and doing his best to help Mycroft lose himself to this moment as well. The feeling of Mycroft's hand in his hair was heavenly.

It was a few moments later when Sherlock gently pulled Mycroft's head back to part their lips.

"Kiss my neck," he begged softly, then closed his eyes in bliss as Mycroft did as he was told. "You hid this so well. Why didn't you just tell me how you felt?"

Mycroft hesitated, lifting his head to look in Sherlock's eyes. "This... is wrong," he said slowly.

"We're not hurting anyone," Sherlock said with a sad frown, trailing a finger along Mycroft's jaw.

"Regardless," Mycroft said. "You're my brother."

"I thought you hated me," Sherlock admitted. "And all this time you were just avoiding me because of the complete opposite. Did you know I overdosed to try and get your attention?"

"What?" Mycroft snapped, shifting to lean on his hands so that he could properly glare down at the boy.

"I thought if I went to hospital, you'd _have_ to care about me. But then you didn't even show up and when I asked Mummy, she said you hadn't even called to ask how I was." Sherlock was staring at Mycroft's chest now, too nervous or stubborn to meet his brother's gaze right now.

"I don't hate you," Mycroft assured him softly. "You know the truth now, that I actually love you, but for the record I _did_ call to ask about you. And as I said, Father wouldn't let me come and visit. He said I had to focus on my studies and let you sort yourself out on your own." Mycroft had almost ignored his Father's wishes, so anxious had he been to make sure Sherlock was alright. But the man's word was law until Mycroft could finish his schooling and make something of himself.

Sherlock gave a small smile, pleased to hear the truth. "I won't do it again, if you're worried. I don't need drugs if I've got you."

"Romantic," Mycroft said with a roll of his eyes. "You're thinner, now. You must have lost weight when in hospital."

"You've gained it." Sherlock winked.

Dropping to rest on his elbows instead of his hands, Mycroft glared and snapped, "Shut up."

"I like it," Sherlock added, sliding his hands down Mycroft's waist to his hips. "You have a better figure when you're fat." Mycroft's eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth to complain, but Sherlock got in quicker. "It doesn't sound like a compliment, but it is. Trust me."

"You really are attracted to me as well, then?" Mycroft asked cautiously.

"Of course I am," Sherlock said. "I wouldn't have kissed you otherwise. I never participate in unwanted physical contact even if I could humiliate someone in the process. I can use words for that."

Mycroft felt an embarrassing warmth spread through him and leant down to pull Sherlock close, hugging him. The boy was reckless, annoying, and often rude, but he was also beautiful and unique. There was something incredibly special about having Sherlock show his appreciation for Mycroft in his own way.

"You said you don't..." Feeling himself blush, Mycroft cleared his throat and tried again. "You think sex is disgusting." He shouldn't have brought it up, especially not when he had no intentions of even allowing things to progress that far, but he couldn't help his curiosity. He wanted to know if the boy had been telling the truth or simply trying to piss him off.

"Yes," Sherlock said, his thin arms returning Mycroft's hug. "I said that. It's a half-truth, though. I think I'm demisexual."

Mycroft cleared his throat nervously. "What exactly does that mean?"

"I can only be sexually attracted to someone I have a strong emotional bond with," Sherlock explained. "The thought of sex with just anyone repulses me, but I've had _many_ thoughts about you."

Making a sudden move to get up, Mycroft tried to hide his heated face from the boy. "As... pleased as I am to hear that," he said as he got off the bed and began straightening his clothes. "Nothing can happen." He had already let this go on too far. They were _brothers_ and Sherlock was only fifteen. This had to end right now.

Sherlock sat up, resting his arms on his knees. "Where are you going?"

"Downstairs," Mycroft replied, refusing to look back. "I'm sorry if I led you on, I really am, but our mutual feelings cannot erase the fact that we're brothers. What happened here today cannot progress any further. _Will_ not. I won't allow it."

Satisfied that he looked respectable again, Mycroft picked up his phone from the bed – without looking at Sherlock – before heading out of the room.

Just as he was pulling the door shut behind him, he heard a quiet, "Not until my birthday, you mean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Katie for being my Greg dialogue <3


	3. Mini Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choking on the smoke of a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I promised ShWhoCa that there would be more of this fic before Christmas but my life has gotten really busy and I've had a couple mental breakdowns soooo here is more, but it's just a teaser.
> 
> A proper chapter will be out later hopefully it won't be too long before that.

_Sherlock slid his hands down Mycroft's naked, sweaty body, biting his lower lip between his teeth as he stared up at his brother through long eyelashes. Mycroft's breathing was erratic as he lay at the mercy of Sherlock, his hands limp by his sides as he couldn't bring himself to do anything in return. Sherlock was so beautiful, his face glowing with innocence._

_"Touch me," Sherlock urged in a murmur, one hand slipping down further to wrap around Mycroft's naked member._

_With a gasp, Mycroft arched into his brother's hand before lifting his own to cup Sherlock's face, gently guiding him down to a kiss. Their mouths fit together perfectly like pieces of a puzzle, just enough give and take involved to make it passionate while languorous._

_Mycroft dared to dip a hand down further then, feeling Sherlock's bare skin rise to goose-bumps under his light touch. He ran his hand over Sherlock's round arse cheeks before squeezing gently and revelling in the moan that escaped his brother._

_"Set sail on the high seas, Captain," Sherlock said._

_Mycroft didn't even pause to wonder how his brother could be kissing and speaking at the same time. He was far too distracted by the hand on his face, his chest, his member, and in his hair. He could feel his toes beginning to curl from the intense pleasure welling up within him and grabbed a fistful of Sherlock's hair, sucking the boys mouth even closer._

_There were lips on the head of his cock and he let out a strangled cry, his eyes shut tight as he fisted the sheets beneath him and bucked his hips up into Sherlock's mouth. His orgasm tore through him, every fibre of his body screaming with the pleasure of finally getting what he wanted. Sherlock was everywhere to him._

_"I can't wait for my birthday," Sherlock murmured, hands still trailing teasingly over Mycroft's stomach even as the older brother lay spinelessly on the bed. With his orgasm fading, Mycroft was exhausted but_ very _satisfied._

_"Anthea is going to be pissed."_

_Tucking Sherlock against his side, Mycroft rolled over on his bed to brush his hand across the soft grass of the secluded meadow they lay in. Sherlock tugged gently at his shirt, itching to get beneath it._

_"I can make you feel so good," Sherlock whispered. Mycroft turned his head to look up at the boy and stared at the smoke escaping his lips. "Not like Gregory."_

_"I'm not interested in Greg," he replied, wondering why he even had to defend himself in the first place._

_"Kiss me," Sherlock begged, fingers curling around Mycroft's wrists, holding them above his head._

_Their lips met again and all Mycroft could taste was smoke. He was choking on it, watching Sherlock carefully press a syringe to his skin. Sherlock's eyes were dead, blaming Mycroft as they stared into his soul._

I'm sorry.

 _He'd meant to say it aloud, but his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth and he couldn't shift it. He tried again._ I'm sorry _. Sherlock kept staring with the same dull expression, smoke pouring out from between his lips and straight to Mycroft's lungs._


End file.
